The thought made Margaret’s stomach churn, but Linda had a point. The next day, Margaret found herself sitting across from Anita in a cozy café, her hands trembling as she tried to sip her coffee. Anita, however, appeared as calm and collected as ever.
“You don’t like the dress?” Anita asked, her brow furrowed.
“It’s a beautiful dress,” Margaret conceded, “but I don’t understand why you’d want me to wear white to your wedding.”
Anita leaned in, her eyes sincere. “This wedding is about bringing our families together, and I wanted to honor you, Margaret. That’s why I chose the dress. It’s important to me that you wear it.”
Margaret studied Anita’s face, searching for any hint of deception, but found none. Could Anita really mean it?
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On the day of the wedding, Margaret’s nerves were at an all-time high. She stood in front of the mirror, the white dress fitting her perfectly, imagining the whispers that might follow her all day. The drive to the venue seemed to take forever, her mind racing with fears of judgment and embarrassment. But when she arrived, the scene that greeted her was breathtaking—vibrant colors, intricate decorations, and guests dressed in traditional Indian attire. The atmosphere was captivating, and in the center of it all stood Anita, not in white, but in a stunning red sari.
Margaret’s breath caught in her throat. She’d completely misjudged the situation.
